


Dead End

by nothing_is_beautiful_and_true



Series: For Want of a Grail [1]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Smut, no holy grail war, smut pretending to be a character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9099892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothing_is_beautiful_and_true/pseuds/nothing_is_beautiful_and_true
Summary: Two remnants of the past attempt to parcel meaning from meaningless things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote some pwp, and then my delicate, artistic sensibilities objected. So I added some window dressing. I have the soul of a horny teenager, lul.

_“Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.”_

The Tohsaka clan was coming to the Einzbern estate.

Kiritsugu didn't elaborate. He focused on lighting his cigarette. Saber kept her mouth shut.

“Don’t let Irisviel out of your sight.” Kiritsugu perfected the art of looking past Saber, rather than at her.

She nodded.

…

Saber questioned Irisviel about the reason behind the visit. But she had no idea. At that point Saber decided to accept it, as she did so many things. Irisviel trusted Kiritsugu, whose ideals were respectable, and that was enough for the Heroic Spirit.

Irisviel convinced Jubstacheit to let her and Illyasviel decorate the castle in anticipation of their guests' arrival. Laughter echoed down empty halls, dancing along colorful streamers and bringing good cheer to a place often shrouded in melancholy. Saber let them replace her blue ribbon with tinsel, because it brought Irisviel joy, but put her foot down when they attempted dressing her in a ridiculous red and green suit.

Tokiomi Tohsaka was a polite and articulate man, his wife graceful and kind, his daughter intelligent and witty. They were the perfect family, as far as Saber could discern, a fully functioning and stable unit. In their shadow, however, followed the silent priest, Kirei Kotomine. He had similar eyes to Kiritsugu, and thus instilled a sense of disquiet.

Their Heroic Spirit was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, Archer? He’s a proud sort. He’ll come around when it strikes his fancy,” Tokiomi said.

“You're rather lax with your Servant.” Jubstacheit’s observation was dry but the underlying mockery clear as day. The clergyman, Kirei, made an odd, perverse expression, his lips almost twitching. Tokiomi’s cool and collected response averted exacerbating tensions.

Illyasviel and little Rin Toshaka became fast friends. Illyasviel was thrilled having another girl her age around, although they occasionally butted heads due to their high strung temperaments. But Aoi and Irisviel smoothed over flare ups without much incident. The dynamic duo spent much of their time outside, traipsing slush and mud into Einzbern Castle’s once immaculate hallways.

Kiritsugu and Kirei were mostly locked in meetings with the heads of the families. However, their loathing of one another, while silent, was absolute. One day Kiritsugu escaped his duties to spend time with the girls, granting Saber considerable free time in the process.

Saber took advantage of the good fortune and brought Irisviel to their favorite room in the castle to enjoy some coffee and companionship. They found the room already occupied; a beautiful man reclined on the sofa, drinking a glass of blood red wine. Earrings of a similar golden hue to his hair glittered in the morning sunlight. Saber sensed his great power and knew he was the Tohsaka’s Heroic Spirit.

“Isn’t it a little early for you to be drinking?” Saber inquired.

“The time for alcohol is dependent on when I declare it to be so. Therefore, the real question is, why are you _not_ drinking?” he countered with a condescending smile. Saber and Irisviel exchanged puzzled glances.

“Well, I was going to brew some coffee. Would you like some?” Irisviel offered, ever hospitable. The Servant known as Archer considered her. Then his unnatural red eyes flicked back to Saber’s.

“Would you vouch for the character of the doll’s drink?” he asked. Saber bristled.

“Her name is Irisviel von Einzbern. And her coffee is fit for the great emperors of the east, a rapturous experience that has left many a lesser man incapable of sleep and besieged by eternal insomnia. They trawl the land in the dead of night, forever seeking the elusive yet divine black caffeinated beverages of Einzbern Castle,” she declared, imperious and loyal to a fault.

“… Saber exaggerates somewhat.” Irisviel turned a light shade of pink. Archer chuckled and set his wine atop the end table. His movements were languid and assured. He reminded Saber of a giant cat – a lion relaxing in the sun. He wasn't one to be trifled with.

“Very well. Let me be the judge,” Archer said. Irisviel shot Saber a pointed, exasperated glare before brewing a dark roast. And just like that, Saber was ‘honored’ to receive Archer’s undivided attention. She could feel his hot gaze looking her up and down, and she folded her arms in front of her chest.

Archer smirked.

Stifling her temper, Saber went and stood by the window. Below the girls were working together to pelt Kiritsugu with snowballs. The mage-killer transformed into a different person in the presence of kids. It was difficult to believe that the man currently shaking snow out of his hair like a dog was the same Kiritsugu that refused to ever look her in the eye. Saber wondered what she’d done to offend him.

“I despise children,” Archer commented, twisting about and following her gaze. Saber reminded herself that he was a guest and that she needed to be well-mannered given the delicate relations between the Einzbern and Tohsaka clans. “They are ignorant to the Truth of the World.”

Despite everything, Saber was intrigued. Irisviel paused too, casting a curious look their way. Saber asked, “What do you mean, exactly?”

“That it is not self-evident is a sign of the World’s degradation. I suppose I shall deign to enlighten you. The Truth is that nothing can remain, that all joy turns to dust, that life is meaningless,” Archer drawled. Saber frowned.

“What you’ve described smacks of nihilism,” she said. “Such beliefs must inspire a dull existence.”

Archer looked startled. He appraised Saber once more, his expression turning ancient and dark. Her stomach contracted.

“Frightfully boring,” Archer agreed. “I am lucky that earthly pleasures such as wine exist to ease my suffering.”

There was something almost self-deprecating about his tone, hidden beneath an ego thick enough to wear.

“Indeed, you bear a terrible burden,” Saber noted wryly. Irisviel giggled and Archer scowled.

“I will forgive you your trespasses, for I am feeling magnanimous,” he told her, and Saber resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What, then, say you?”

Saber faced Archer. The heady scent of coffee filled the air, rich and earthen and warm. There was something almost picturesque about the scene playing out before them. Saber beside the window, framed by a world cloaked in white, Irisviel leaning against the counter, keeping an eye on the brew, and Archer sprawled out on the couch, almost an extension of the furniture.

“In regards to what?” Saber asked. Leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling, Archer shrugged. “In the instance of children, there is a brief window of innocence, not ignorance, that we should all go through.”

(Had she ever known such innocence?)

Saber plowed on, undeterred, and said, “The world can be cruel, yes, and that is why the strong must shield the weak from such dark terrors as best they can.”

“And what if something happens to those who are strong? Who, then, defends those who never learned to defend themselves? And who protects the strong from their own unique hardships?” Archer asked.

“The strong are weapons that can be replaced if they are destroyed,” Saber replied. “But, ideally, those professing true strength never dull. We suffer alone in stoic silence, and persevere alone, without complaint, in the face of adversity. That is the price the gift of power pays.”

Archer began to laugh. Irritated, and wondering why she hid her ire when Archer clearly had no intention of extending her a similar courtesy, Saber made her way behind him. She glared at the other Heroic Spirit, who was caught in the throes of mirth. Wiping away an invisible tear, he sat up, throwing one arm over the couch. His hand lightly brushed her own and she shied back. Then Saber blinked.

“What a charming notion.” Archer grinned. “You are delightful – what _are_ you doing?”

Saber had grabbed his hand, frowning. It was soft, soft as silk. His fingers were long and slim. She said, “You have hands like a woman.”

Archer appeared surprised and then offended and then amused, each emotion flickering across his elegant features in rapid succession. An open book that had no care if someone chose to read from it or not. He turned her palm face up, tracing the callouses there with a gentle touch. Saber shivered, the hair of her arms standing on end.

“And you have hands like a warrior. A killer,” he said. Saber tried jerking away, but his fingers encircled her wrist. Soft hands, but an iron grip.

“Let go.” Saber gave him one chance. For a split second she thought he wouldn’t heed her warning. Then Archer chuckled and did as she bid, returning to his former relaxed position. His self-satisfied expression rankled.

“Um… the coffee is –,” Irisviel began.

“We’re leaving, Irisviel,” Saber cut her off. Moving past the sofa, past the end table, and toward the pale-haired woman, Saber started tugging her out the door. Irisviel resisted, although halfheartedly.

“But the coffee?” she asked.

“That doesn’t matter.” Out of the corner of her eye, Saber saw Archer grin and lean to pick up his drink. Then he froze. Suppressing a smile, Saber sipped from the fluted crystal. The red wine danced on her tongue.

It tasted delicious.

…

“I heard you interacted with the Tohsaka’s Servant.”

It took Saber a moment to realize Kiritsugu spoke. The topic of conversation had decided to join everyone for dinner, seated between Tokiomi and Kirei. Archer wouldn’t stop staring at Saber, and it made the back of her neck prickle.

“Yes,” she said. Kiritsugu meticulously cut his meat, silverware flashing in the dim lighting. Saber waited, and then realized that the discussion was over before it had even begun.

…

Several days later, Saber and Irisviel were exploring the castle with the girls. Locked inside because of a vicious blizzard, Rin had been stunned to discover that they didn't know every inch of the place by heart, and then set out to rectify the egregious error.

“Another bathroom!” Rin shouted, slamming the door shut. Illyasviel scrawled on a piece of paper, supposedly a map, in bright yellow crayon. Irisviel giggled.

“There are some areas that are off limits, kids,” she pointed out.

“We’ll just have to sneak in,” Rin said. “If we don’t get caught, it never happened!”

“You’ll have to be sacrificed to distract the guards, Mom,” Illyasviel said seriously. “We’ll need Saber if we come across any monsters.”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t allow that.” Saber glanced up.

“You’d have to if I _commanded_ it.” Illyasviel stamped her foot and pouted.

“Illya!” Irisviel scolded her daughter. “Apologize.”

“It’s fine.” Saber watched Illyasviel’s face redden. Irisviel frowned and Saber felt a flicker of foreboding. She might be in for an earful later. Rin got a mischievous glint in her eye and twirled her dark ringlets.

“My father says he’ll never use a Command Seal on Archer if he can avoid it, because it wouldn't be worth the headache,” Rin said. Saber believed it.

“He’s so pretty. I like his earrings,” Illyasviel said. “Oh, but you’re prettier, Saber.”

“No, she’s _not_ ,” Rin retorted. “Archer is the most prettiest Servant to ever exist. He said so himself!”

The two squabbled. Saber and Irisviel sighed in unison. A few feet further and the group opened another door to find the man of the moment playing chess with Kirei. Fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cozy study’s wood paneled walls. Falling silent, Rin shushed Illyasviel.

“Look, a thief enters,” Archer said without checking over his shoulder. Saber crossed her arms.

“I am no thief,” she said, offended, hands twitching as though to draw her sword. Saber reminded herself, again, that they were guests. “How can I steal that which already belongs to the Einzbern estate?”

“All the treasures of the world belong to me.” Archer smiled at Kirei, as though sharing a hilarious joke with him. “Checkmate.”

The priest stood, his expression flat.

“May I take my leave?” he asked.

“I shall allow it,” Archer decided. Kirei stared at Irisviel as he left, and Saber instinctively moved in front of her. Rin stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

“Did you not say, before, that all things are meaningless?” Saber humored Archer’s delusions. “What use is there in assigning worth to meaningless things?”

Archer tilted his head. Irisviel ushered the children over by the futon. They spoke softly to one another, their words a low murmur in the background. Sparing them a brief, disdainful glance, Archer returned his unnatural gaze to Saber. She still stood in the entrance, tense and serious.

“Because I observe and pass judgement. Arbitrary, perhaps, but necessary. It is my fate.” He began resetting the chess board. “Now, the matter of your punishment.”

“If you wish to duel over something so trivial, I would gladly –,” Saber started to retort, but Archer’s snort stopped her.

“Oh, please. As if I would sacrifice the endless entertainment you bring for passable wine,” he drawled, and then gestured at the board. “Come, play a round or two with me.”

Studying him, Saber said, “So you admit your presence is a punishment?”

“I am equal parts punishment and absolution,” Archer said.

Saber took a seat opposite him.

“You should know, I’ve never lost a match,” she said.

“Neither have I.” He smiled; dazzled and gleamed like one of his precious treasures.

Saber cared little for games with a heavy focus on tactics. Her preferred strategy was to keep it simple and leave her entire being on the battlefield. But Saber’s pride had been wounded by Archer’s ridiculous accusations, and she would humble him. They remained silent, concentrating on the game before them.

It ended in a stalemate.

Saber blew a strand of blonde hair out of her face and sat back in her seat. She noticed Irisviel and the girls had fallen asleep, their breathing even and steady.

“I am King Gilgamesh of Uruk,” said Archer unexpectedly. Saber arched an eyebrow.

“Should you be telling me this?” she asked.

“One, you should have already known my name as soon as you laid eyes upon me. My glory makes such truth known immediately. Two, I care nothing for the ridiculous limitations Tokiomi and his ilk established. I have judged you worthy.”

Saber mused that Archer was, without a doubt, insane. But there was also something almost  _entertaining_  about his out-of-touch assertions. She’d never known anyone quite like him. Maybe Merlin came close. Her mouth twitched.

“In that case, I am Arturia Pendragon,” she said. Her true name sounded strange on her tongue. A piece of armor she hadn’t worn in a very long time, and no longer fit quite right. Saber almost added that she was also a king, but she didn’t deserve the title. Her reign had been destined to end in utter failure, and end in spectacular failure it did.

“Arturia.” Archer savored the name. Saber reddened and coughed.

“Let us play another round." She didn’t care for draws. They merely delayed the inevitable.

“Very well.” Archer reset the board, again. “But I wonder if it will be impossible to determine a victor.”

“Oh?” Saber went first.

“If neither of us has ever lost, perhaps it is impossible that either of us _can_ lose, and if we did, it would create a paradox. Therefore, the World will endeavor to ensure such an event never passes.” Archer contemplated his options. Saber considered the statement; on the surface it was absurd.

(But wasn’t their very existence in this modern era absurdity personified?)

“And if one of us chose to lose?” Saber asked.

We do not bend, we break. Or are you implying you concede?” Archer replied. He made his move. Solemn, Saber changed the subject.

“You don’t care for your Master?”

“He does not deserve such a lofty title,” Archer said, his voice rich with scorn. “Tokiomi Tohsaka makes dirt appear fascinating in comparison. I do not believe he has ever known an original thought.”

Saber glanced at the slumbering Rin.

“Does there exist anyone deserving of the title 'Master' in your eyes?”

“Of course not. I stand apart and above all.” Archer laced his fingers, peering intently at her. Moving another pawn, Saber frowned.

“Do you delight in spouting nonsense and provoking conflict, Archer?” she questioned. “We are summoned to serve, not to be served. By denying our purpose, you deny what it means to be a Heroic Spirit.”

“And I will continue denying it.” Archer’s eyes flashed. “I am no Servant but the King of Heroes, the first and foremost. I embody the Law and glorify myself above all others. That is my right. I will not bow and scrap to some foolish mortal because he chants a few words and bears a gaudy tattoo.”

Saber shook her head.

“I do not believe I will ever understand one such as you,” she commented. Archer took her pawn, examining the piece with a lazy smirk.

“Perhaps some things are unknowable,” he said, infuriating and unrepentant in his arrogance.

“You think rather highly of yourself,” Saber observed.

“As should you.” The double meaning behind his statement annoyed Saber.

“You grant me too much credit,” she said. “And others too little. Tokiomi strikes me as an honorable man.”

“What compelled your Master to involve himself with the Einzbern family?” Archer’s abrupt inquiry caught Saber off guard. She scowled.

“I couldn’t say,” she replied.

Archer rested his chin in the palm of his hand and grinned, scrutinizing her. A golden bang fell across his face. Saber had the sudden urge to brush it behind his ear. Archer’s madness was infectious, it seemed. They devolved into silence once more, but his words gnawed at her.

Finally, Saber caved and asked, “What is your opinion on smoking?”

“A filthy habit,” he said. His words were idle.

They never finished the second chess match.

…

Saber couldn’t say she liked Archer.

In fact, she found him rather abhorrent.

And yet there was a sense of kinship (kingship?) between them that Arturia had not felt with anyone since being summoned to the modern era.

She thought of the way the fire danced on his skin. Her mouth dried.

 _The prettiest to ever exist, indeed,_ Saber thought. It was alien, the sense of – desire? When had she last desired something?

Saber clenched her hand into a fist, as though pulling a sword from stone. Her blue-green eyes darkened.

“I am a fool,” she said out loud.

Irisviel shot Saber a quizzical look.

…

Saber stood in the courtyard, watching Irisviel and Rin and Illyasviel build a fort. Their merriment bogged down drifts of snow. It was freezing, reminding Saber of Britain’s bitter winters. She sensed Archer’s approach and turned to watch him exit the confines of Einzbern Castle. He wore a white jacket and bore a disgruntled expression. Saber almost laughed.

“Not to your liking?” she asked.

“In my time, snow was confined to the mountains, where it belonged,” he said.

“We are in the mountains,” Saber pointed out. Archer ignored that, staring at Irisviel and the children. He stood behind Saber, almost close enough to touch.

“Look at them,” he said. “Like ants scrambling to build an anthill. Any minute a careless human will walk by and crush it underfoot.”

She could feel the breath of his words on the back of her neck. Saber moved away.

“What do you want, Archer?” she asked. He gave her a slow, searching smile and she flushed. “I should run you through right now.”

Archer snickered and stuck his hands in his pockets. Self-conscious, Saber inspected her clothes. Adjusted her bright red cloak. It was mostly for Irisviel’s sake, as Saber’s spirit status dulled the effects of the cold regardless.

“I want to show you something,” Archer said. She blinked. “Come with me.”

He touched her shoulder, light but suggestive. Walked off, trudging through the snow, sticking to the shape of the castle’s walls.

Saber rocked on her heels. She watched Archer pause and look over his shoulder, appearing impatient. He cocked an eyebrow at her.

_“Don’t let Irisviel out of your sight.”_

Saber swallowed. She stood on the precipice, peering into the abyss. Wavering, uncertainty stayed her while longing attempted to propel her onward. Remembering Kiritsugu’s dead gaze, something that was borderline rebellion hardened her resolve.

“Irisviel,” she called out. The pale-haired woman straightened. “I’ll be gone for a little while.”

Irisviel hesitated and then signaled her acquiescence with a wave.

Saber followed Archer through the path he’d plowed for her. She rounded the corner, the others disappearing from view, and spotted him. Annoyed, but too proud to ask Archer to slow down, Saber walked quickly and caught him. Silence stretched between them for several long minutes. Saber tried not to think too hard about what they were doing.

They reached an enclave in the castle; a passage that led to a side entrance. Saber pushed past Archer and investigated further. If there had ever been a door, it was now walled over. A dead end. Temper flaring, Saber scowled.

“What’s the point of this, Archer?”

“It is a metaphor.” He sounded pleased, as though he’d just uttered something supremely clever and profound when in reality it was utter nonsense. Saber turned, her eyes narrowed.

“Does that even mean–?” She yelped as Archer slammed her against the stone wall. It was ice cold, cutting straight through her clothes. In contrast, Archer’s body blazed hot as the sun. Saber put her hands on the soft fur of his jacket, unable to decide if she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

“Why did you follow me, Arturia?” he asked, his arm over her shoulder, hemming her in. His free hand casually traced her chin, his silken touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Red eyes glimmering with lust, Archer watched her and waited. His knee pressed against her thigh.

“I don’t have a reason," Saber said, her breathing uneven. “It was – on a whim."

There was something shameful and exhilarating about the admission. She did not do things without purpose.

“Do you regret it?” Archer asked intently.

Saber shivered and then said, “No.”

Archer leaned forward and kissed her. His mouth was warm. Bits of snow, kicked up by the wind, clung to his eyelashes and melted in rivulets down her cheeks. Making a tiny noise in the back of her throat, Saber slid her hands up Archer’s coat and around his neck. Her fingers twined in his fine hair, his large gold earrings ghosting above her skin.

He drew away slightly, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips. She groaned and dragged him back, banging their noses together. Archer chuckled and nuzzled beneath her jaw, then sucked on Saber’s earlobe.

“Relax,” he whispered, his reassurance coiling in her ear and sinking lower. Dizzy, Saber mumbled an incomprehensible string of words. Archer kissed her on the mouth again, harder, and there was more than a little desperation as Saber returned his affections. Her lips parted to devour him, eagerly breathing him in. His hand dropped lower, hiking up her dress, and he ground his palm against her crotch.

Saber gasped and bucked at the unexpected touch as well as the shock of cold air. Her grip on his hair had to be painful, but if so, Archer didn’t show any outward sign. He broke off the kiss, seeking her throat. Archer licked Saber’s pulse.

She hadn’t realized she was capable of producing the sounds coming out of her mouth. Writhing under Archer’s expert touch, Saber moaned, low and soft. She hoped the kids wouldn’t stray and stumble across them. Saber uttered a strange choking noise at the thought.

“What is it? I know when you are not thinking about me,” Archer murmured against her skin. His teeth flashed.   

“I’m just worried that – oh!” Saber was distracted from her concerns as Archer nipped at her neck. The heel of his palm continued grinding against her cunt, and the blunt pressure was maddening.

Archer’s head dropped lower, and Saber realized he was unbuttoning her dress with his mouth. She started helping him, but he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. Archer’s pupils were dilated, and Saber became aware of his insistent erection against her leg.

“So impatient, Arturia,” Archer growled. Squirming out of his hold, Saber gritted her teeth.

“Don’t tease me,” she said. Archer darkened.

“You dare command a king?” He drew back in a fit of petulance. Saber grabbed him and held him in a steel grip.

“I _am_ a king,” Saber declared. “I am King of Knights, King of Britain, and I swear to you on my honor as a knight, if you don’t fuck me, I _will_ make you regret ever coming –.”

He shoved his hand past her undergarments and they sank inside her. Arching, Saber’s head banged against the wall, and she cried out. It hurt, but part of her was a little bit in love with her own pain. It was like salt in something sweet, emphasizing the slick warmth between her legs. He massaged her folds with one hand. She clenched around him, reveling in the sensation.

The other hand returned to Saber’s half-undone top and swiftly finished what he’d begun. Finding her breast and taking it in his mouth, Archer’s tongue swirled and worked its clever magic. His free hand kneaded her other breast, and it felt wonderful.

Saber panted and dug her nails into his shoulders. Her nerves were aflame and pulsed in time with the thrusts of his fingers and the flicks of his tongue. She could feel a tightness, pooling low in her abdomen, build with every caress and suck, swelling and threatening to bring her over the edge. She clung to Archer, unraveling at the seams.

And when her orgasm crested, something _miraculous_  happened.

For the briefest of moments, everything fell away. The pain, the sorrow, the regret, the suffering…

(The faces of the people she’d failed, the foolishness of dreaming of a better future, of thinking her gender didn’t matter, of daring to want to be a good king when she was only a little girl with a destiny forced upon her by rapists and murderers pantomiming hollow honor, of…)

… Replaced by simple pleasure, radiating outward like a bright white light. There was nothing else. His name clawed itself from her lips and then she crashed back to earth. Saber’s chest heaved and she watched him pull his glistening hand out of her and then stick his fingers in his mouth. He looked at her curiously.

Recovering somewhat, Saber stroked his soft hair. He pulled her closer to him and rubbed his hips against her, a lewd smirk replacing his contemplative stare. She felt limp and satisfied, but wasn’t about to deny Archer his own needs. He brushed aside the bangs stuck to her face, as the sweat on her body began to cool. The rest of her hair was beginning to fall out of its intricate bun, and the back of her head ached.

Suddenly, Saber thought of a joke. She’d never been a humorous person. Most people derived amusement from her earnest seriousness. Nevertheless, Saber was confident her words would at least bring a smile to his face.

“I think we’ve created a paradox,” she said. He’d been working his pants off, but paused, blinking at her. Saber's expression became sly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you just did something selfless, didn’t you?”

Gilgamesh burst out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that the gilsaber relationship is primarily built upon antagonism. Saber was probably way too willing to put up with Gil’s bullshit in this story. And canon Gilgamesh’s douchbaggery could be the eighth wonder of the world. But, but, I have a reason, and that is… multiverse. Actually the reason is that I wanted to write some smut. Plus I wanted to approach them from a different angle than my other fic. So I kinda relaxed both Gil and Saber. I do honestly think a world without the Holy Grail Wars would change a lot of Saber’s motivations, as that’s one of the driving parts of her character (and Gilgamesh but to a lesser degree). Also I have no idea why Kiritsugu would be with the Einzberns if there was no grail, okay, just pretend it makes sense.


End file.
